Defective Merchandise
by Evey Edge
Summary: A possible theory about what happened between Red, Tom, and Liz prior to Season 1, written after the 2x15, using the story Liz told in Dr. Linus Creel about her boyfriend Ronnie as a jumping off point. Spoilers for 2x15. Tom/Liz.
1. The Exception

Jacob watched as the woman on his monitor flipped over her table, sending food and wine crashing into what Jacob assumed would henceforth be her ex-boyfriend. Five minutes earlier Ronnie, the "writer", that she'd been dating for the past year had left the kitchen to use the restroom and Liz had taken the opportunity to steal his cell phone from his jacket. After about a minute of exploration, she'd returned the device to where she'd found it and sat, stock still, until her boyfriend had return to the table. Then she'd begun her attack.

Jacob was surprised to find himself smiling as the cheating asshole dodged the plates, and glasses that were being thrown at his head. There wasn't much in the world that actually amused him, but for some reason it was satisfying to watch the leech that had been screwing around on his meal ticket get what was coming to him.

This assignment was a bit different from his usual fare. Naturally Jacob still had a cover identity and was living under a fake name, but there was no infiltration, no target to deceive, no secrets to gather. His only tasks were: Observe and protect. No direct contact with the subject unless absolutely necessary. It was a bit boring, but it was also relaxing. When he'd come in after his last job, being the adoring boyfriend of a Mafioso's daughter, he'd needed a break. This gig had been the perfect opportunity for a rest. So far it had been the easiest money Jacob had ever earned.

The client was the Raymond Reddington, and Bill had been emphasized the importance of keeping him happy. Everyone in Jacob's world knew The Concierge of Crime and his reputation for taking care of his contractors. Jacob had never had a more important client. A good reference from Raymond Reddington was currency in it of itself, so naturally Jacob had been thorough in his preparation. He knew everything there was know about Elizabeth Scott...or rather everything that there was to find.

Elizabeth was adopted at the age of four by Sam Mulhuin. The copy of the official record named Patrick and Diane Scott as her birth parents, but Tom hadn't been able to find any information on either one of them. The adoption agency listed on the certificate had burned down along with all records of Scott's origins. Given Reddington's interest in the woman, that blackout regarding her biological family was intriguing. Jacob had made a hobby of speculating who she really was, and what Reddington wanted with her.

Scott's life after her adoption was well-documented and he'd gone over it thoroughly. As a child Scott had regular appointments with a psychologist. She was apparently treated for "anti-social tendencies". At eight years old Scott was suspended from school for punching a fifth grade boy in nose. Her teachers noted that she was academically gifted, but struggled to relate well to her classmates. This trend continued into her teen years when Scott had apparently hooked up with a young petty thief named Frank Malone. Scott left her adoptive father's home the summer before her senor year, presumably with her boyfriend. She returned home six months later. There were no existing records of Frank Malone after that point in time and Jacob couldn't help but wonder if Reddington had had a hand in that.

Jacob was surprised how much of Scott's profile aligned to his own; orphaned young, high IQ, anti-social tendencies, criminal behavior. Elizabeth Scott would have been a prime candidate for the Major, had it not been for her adoptive father.

After the "Frank" era Scott apparently turned her life around. She committed to her education, was accepted into the University of Baltimore, graduated with Honors, and currently was pursuing an advanced degree in Forensic Psychology.

Things hadn't been so good for Scott during the last year. Her father had been diagnosed with lung cancer and was currently receiving Chemo treatments. In the three months he'd been watching her Jacob had witnessed numerous fights between Scott and Mulhuin about her dropping out of her graduate program to be there with him. Mulhuin had absolutely refused and had gone so far as to threaten to stop the treatments altogether if she quit school. The bond there was clearly very deep.

Scott had been struggling with the stress her father's illness and was currently taking anti-depressants. Jacob wasn't sure those pills were the best idea for someone with Scott's psychological make-up, but he wasn't her doctor and it wasn't really his business. Watching Scott's rage, Jacob couldn't help but wonder if Ronnie had been aware that one of the side effects of his girlfriend's medication was mood swings. That may have made him think twice before cheating on her.

"Liz, stop! You're acting crazy!" Not the tactic Jacob would have gone with but it seemed to take the wind out of Scott's sails. She dropped the picture frame that would have likely have been her next projectile.

"Crazy? Yeah, that's is probably it, Ronnie. I'm crazy." Tom leaned closer to the screen and saw that Scott had started crying. "I was crazy to to expect some degree of loyalty from you. To think that you gave a damn about me. Maybe I should go take my crazy pills. Then maybe I'll understand about you screwing around on me!"

Scott left the kitchen and headed to the bathroom, Ronnie following close behind her. She filled the glass by the sink with water, then opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a bottle of pills. She unscrewed the top and shook one of the anti-depressants into her hand.

"You know what, Liz? I'm not the only one at fault here. Life with you is like roller coaster. You're up, you're down. You pull me close, then you push me away. You love me. You hate me. Maybe I just needed a break from the emotional whiplash! Maybe I just can't deal with your insane bullshit 24/7!"

Scott stared at her boyfriend for a long moment, pill and pill bottle both still in her hands. In one quick move Liz's tossed back the pill bottle, pouring at least a dozen pills down her throat, quickly followed by the glass of water. When she finished she slammed the glass on the sink.

"How was that for insane bullshit?" Jacob blinked in perfect sync with Ronnie. He could not believe Scott had just done that. Volatile didn't even begin to describe it.

"Are you nuts?!" Despite Ronnie's accusation Scott suddenly appeared calm as a cucumber, crossing her arm across her chest.

"Apparently. Now let's see if you can deal with it." Jacob didn't blame Ronnie for his look of utter disbelief. Jacob was supposed to be a professional at reading people and he had no clue as to what was going on in Scott's head at the moment.

"Liz, you just swallow a dozen Xanax! What the fuck are you doing just standing there?! Call 911!" Scott tilted her head to the side, as though she were trying to decide what flavor of ice cream she wanted to order.

"No. You do it." Ronnie persisted in his slack jawed expression. Whatever game Scott was playing here, it was way over his head.

"What?"

"I do the laundry, I clean, I pay rent and utilities. I think its time that YOU pull some of the weight around here. That is if you can take a break from fucking around and pretending to write the great American novel." Suddenly things became abundantly clear to Jacob. This was a test. A crazy game of emotional chicken. She was provoking Ronnie to see what he'd would do, to test his loyalty, his commitment. The trouble was Ronnie wasn't smart enough to see what Scott was doing. Judging by his reddening face, all Ronnie had heard were the insults, the pricks to his ego.

"Go to hell, Liz." Ronnie turned and walked out of the apartment. Liz stood silent as a statue as she watched him go. The second the door closed she walked stiffly over to the living room couch, sat, and picked up the portable phone from the coffee table. Jacob waited for her to dial. She didn't.

"Come on, Scott. He's gone. It's over. Make the call." Jacob was surprised to hear the words actually come out of his mouth. He'd gotten a little more involved in the little drama than he'd realized. He stared at the screen, willing his target to push the buttons on the small device. The longer she did nothing, the more he tense he got. He had no idea exactly how many pills she'd taken or how long it took for them to take effect. He had standing orders not to infer, except in cases of emergency. Did this qualify? The Major's warnings about breaking cover were echoing in his ears.

"He's coming back. He'll come back." Scott's whispered words, barely picked up by the microphones he'd planted made his decision for him. She wasn't going to make the call herself, because to make the call would be to admit that her boyfriend didn't give a shit.

Jacob yanked out his burner and dialed 911. When the operator picked up he gave the best impression of a panicked boyfriend that he could muster.

"I need an ambulance! My girlfriend just swallowed a bunch of anti-depressants! We're on 114 Lexington street apartment 2A! Hurry please! My phone's about to-" Tom punched the end call button and turned his attention back to the monitors. Liz's head seemed to be lolling to the side. That wasn't good. How long until the ambulance arrived? The phone slid out of her hand and she collapsed on the couch. Shit.

Jacob sprinted for the door, yanked it open and raced out into the hall. Liz's apartment was only four doors down. When he got to the door, he found it unlocked and he pushed his way in.

"Hello?" Jacob tried, in case Liz was still semi-conscious. "I heard yelling. Is everything okay in here?" No response. He rushed over the couch. Scott's eyes were half closed, unfocused.

"Ronnie?" Scott's soft, hopeful whisper sent a strange and unfamiliar sensation through Jacob's chest. He didn't know why, but he felt reluctant to disabuse her of the notation that her boyfriend had returned.

"It's alright, I'm here. Just stay with me, okay?" As he spoke a small, but sweet smile appeared on Elizabeth Scott's face.

"Okay." Slowly, but deliberately she extended to her hand towards him. After a moment Jacob took it, his fingers gently enfolding hers. Elizabeth gave a soft sigh of relief. Without consciously deciding to do it, Jacob reached out with his free hand and stroked her hair. It was soft and smooth. It was strange seeing her this close after three months of watching her through cameras and binoculars. He'd never really appreciated before how beautiful she was.

"The ambulance is on its way. It's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine." Jacob was surprised how naturally the words seemed to come out of him. Comforting had never come easily thanks to his "lack of natural empathy" as one of the shrinks he'd seen in his youth had put it. He'd spent hours practicing tone, gesture, the right look of concern. In the past when the moment called for it, he'd had to carefully focus on executing his performance. This felt...natural. Why?

He looked down at the girl and and saw her breathing had become more shallow. That wasn't good. Maybe he should turn her on her side, make it easier for her to breath? It wasn't easy to accomplish one handed, but he managed to shift Elizabeth to a better position. He smiled as he watched her draw deeper breaths. The tightening sensation in his gut suddenly lessened and the truth finally hit him. He didn't have to fake caring, because he did care. He cared her. He cared about Elizabeth Scott. That thought felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. The shock caused him to want rip his hand away, out of her grasp.

"I love you." Her mumbled words sent another strange tingle through his chest. What was happening here? What was wrong him? He wasn't some stupid moon-eyed teenager. He'd known dozens of women intimately and not once had he had the kind of response he was having to Elizabeth Scott. This...affection made no sense. He wasn't built for it. It wasn't part of his genetic make-up. Jacob Phelps was detached. Jacob Phelps didn't feel things the way other people did. His whole life this truth had been drilled into him. If this girl, this woman, was somehow the exception to the rule, that made her dangerous to him. He needed to get away from her. He suddenly heard the sound of the approach ambulance. He was almost in the clear.

"Stay." What was the woman, some kind of a mind reader?

"Of course I'll stay." At least until the EMTs arrived. After he'd called Bill and ask him to send a replacement.

"Promise?" There was something almost childlike about her voice then, which somehow made it hard for Jacob to immediately answer. He cursed his own foolishness. This was a grown woman, not a toddler, who thought she was talking to her idiot boyfriend.

"Someone need an ambulance?" A thin black woman and a large white man pushed a gurney into the apartment.

"Over here!" Jacob stood, letting go of Elizabeth's hand to allow the medics to examine her. Elizabeth's soft whimper sent yet another unexpected pang through him. He busied himself by running to the bathroom and retrieving the pill bottle.

"This is what she took. I think she swallowed about a dozen. Is she going to be okay?" Jacob didn't love the fact they didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to lift Elizabeth onto the gurney and roll her out of the apartment. Jacob kept pace with them as they jogged the gurney down the hall to the emergency elevator.

"Hopefully. They're going to need to pump her stomach. We're taking her to Mercy Medical Center."

The doors closed, leaving Jacob alone in the hallway. He knew should get back to his apartment before a curious neighbor popped their head out of the door and saw him standing there. In his current situation is was best to remain as anonymous as possible.

Once he was back in his room, he walked over to his desk, where he'd left his burner phone. Should he call Bill? Perhaps he'd been overreacting. The last thing he'd wanted to do was damage his professional credibility. He'd put a pause on that call for now. There was unfortunately one call he'd still need to make and he was not looking forward to making it. He sighed and punched the number.

"Hello?" The deep rich voice could only belong to Reddington's bodyguard Dembe.

"It's Mike Davis," Jacob said, using the alias he had been hired under, "There's been an incident."


	2. What's In A Name?

Jacob's eyelids felt like they weighed ten pounds each. He really should sleep. Elizabeth had been unconscious for hours, and the hospital was shut for visitors for the night. She was as secure as she would ever be in a building like that. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the multiple screens covering the wall of the van.

It had been a busy 32 hours. After speaking to Dembe he'd put a gun and a ski mask in his pocket, and went looking for Ronnie. Jacob had been able to track the asshole's phone to a nearby bar. He'd broken into Ronnie's car and waited in the backseat for the man to return.

Jacob smiled at the memory of putting the gun to the back of the man's head and explaining very carefully to Ronnie that he was never ever see, speak to, or contact Elizabeth Scott ever again. After relieving the idiot of his apartment key, Jacob had cracked him hard against the temple, and left Ronnie there in his parked car. He'd returned to Liz's apartment, taken everything that belonged to her boyfriend, bagged it, and dropped it into the building's dumpster. When Liz eventually returned to her apartment there wouldn't be anything left to remind her of the parasite who used to live there.

Once he'd finished up removing all remnants of Ronnie Stevens, he'd driven over to his watch post, and swapped out his car for the surveillance van. Jacob had then departed for the hospital. Not only had he hacked the building's surveillance feed, but he'd also planted a camera in Elizabeth's room. He'd posed as a flower delivery man, to gain access while Elizabeth was off being evaluated by one of the hospital shrinks. Jacob had used a vase of yellow roses he'd purchased and a baseball cap to hide his face from the security cameras. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but it didn't hurt to be careful.

He remembered the look on Liz's face when she'd returned and saw the flowers: confused, but hopeful. Jacob suspected she thought the flowers were from Ronnie. He'd watched her all day, and he hadn't seen her reach out to any of her friends from school. She hadn't even called her father. Was it shame at what she's done? Did she not want to bother them? What was going on inside Elizabeth Scott's head? Better question: Why did he care? Why, after staying awake for over thirty hours, was he striving to understand the inner workings of her mind, rather than simply getting some much needed sleep?

Suddenly the door to the van flew open and on instinct Jacob whipped out his gun and found himself pointing it at Raymond Reddington.

"Mr. Davis. I apologize for the lateness of my visit, but business delayed me longer than expected." Reddington spoke as though they had had an appointment, as though Jacob had been expecting him. He had not. At the most he'd expected a follow-up call earlier in the day, but when it hadn't come Jacob had assumed his brief report to Dembe had been sufficient Apparently he'd been wrong.

"Mr. Reddington." Reddington stepped into the van, and strolled over to the monitors, leaving Jacob to shut the door behind him.

"I had a van once as a teenager, I bought it second hand. Hideous yellow exterior and always smelled vaguely of corn chips. Still I made some wonderful memories there with Janet Watts. But to business, how is Miss Scott?" Jacob struggled to shift his sleep deprived mind into gear.

"They pumped her stomach. She'll make a full recovery." Reddington nodded absently his eyes drifting to screen with the image of the sleeping girl.

"And psychologically? Will she try to kill herself again." Had Reddington's voice hitched slightly on the words 'kill herself' or was Jacob imagining things.

"She didn't try to kill herself." Jacob's tone was a little sharper than he'd intended, causing Reddington to raise his eyebrows.

"Then how exactly would you interpret swallowing a handful of pill and not calling for an ambulance?" Jacob fought the urge to rub his eyes. The last thing he needed was to show any sign of weakness to a man like Reddington.

"It a test. He had been unfaithful. Elizabeth created a situation to see if he would help her, protect her. She wanted him to prove himself loyal to her, despite his betrayals. He failed." Jacob wondered what would have happened if Ronnie had proved himself. Would Elizabeth have taken him back? Or had she simply wanted the reassurance that she was still loved, still wanted, before she kicked his ass to the curb.

"Do you foresee this kind of behavior happening again?" He seriously considered the question. Elizabeth's actions hadn't been premeditated, she hadn't planned to overdose. It was clear she was humiliated in the aftermath of her hospitalization. No, she wouldn't make the same mistake again. She was too smart for that.

"No. She's impulsive and stubborn, but as I said, not suicidal. This was an aberration, brought on by the stress of her father's illness. Also I've removed the stresser from her life. Ronnie Stevens will no longer be an issue." Reddington tilted his head to the side, perusing his lips, clearly displeased.

"How?" This wasn't the response Jacob was expecting. He'd assumed Reddington would be happy he'd taken the initiative.

"I convinced him it wasn't in his best interest to contact her again." Surely Reddington hadn't intended to let that dead weight continue to be a sponge in Elizabeth's life after what he'd done.

"Mr. Davis it sounds as though you are treading dangerously close to the boundaries of your assignment." So that was the issue? The "no direct interference" clause of the contract?

"I was hired with the primary directive of protecting Elizabeth. Removing Ronnie Stevens from her life falls under that heading." Reddington may have been the boss, but Jacob was the agent in the field. Jacob couldn't be effective at his job if Reddington micromanaged the way he did it.

"Miss Scott." Jacob blinked, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"You've just referred to your protectee as "Elizabeth" for the second time in as many minutes. Names are important Mr. Davis. They establish familiarity, relationships. It is essential that you remember that to you, that woman is and always will be Miss Scott." Jacob schooled his face into its most neutral expression, but underneath his mind was racing. How could he have been so sloppy? And why did Reddington have to be so damn perceptive, sniffing out a weakness Jacob himself hadn't been aware of 48 hours ago?

"Yes, Sir." Reddington snorted elegantly at Jacob's formality, and crossed back over to the van's door.

"Please drop the veneer of respect Mr. Davis. It doesn't suit you. I look forward to receiving your next report." And on that note Reddington pulled the door open and left as abruptly as he had come.

Jacob turned back to his screens, deep in thought. He'd told himself he'd wait to make a decision on whether or not pull the plug on this assignment. The only way to do that was to examine the facts as he knew them: 1) He was attracted to Elizabeth Scott. Her beauty, her passion, he volatility, her intelligence, her strength, and her vulnarability somehow appealed to him in a strange and somewhat frightening way. 2) Reddington suspected his attraction. 3) If he asked for extraction he'd get a black mark from both Reddington and Bill that would be hard to scrub out. Conclusion: He would stay. As the saying went, familiarity bred contempt. Jacob was certain that if he watched Elizabeth Scott long enough, he'd grow bored with her. He'd cure himself of his crush with no one being the wiser.

Satisfied with his decision Jacob leaned back into his chair and closed his eyes. As he slipped into unconsciousness one last thought drifted rebelliously across his exhausted mind: _Good night, Liz_.


	3. Compromised

If Jacob had to listen to one more minute of this seemingly unending lecture about how fish had souls, he was going to leave his car, cross the street, enter the restaurant, and kill Liz's date. Each time he had to sit through these tedious mating rituals it seemed to become worse. Her dates ran the gamut from patronizing to obnoxious. Above all they were incredibly boring. The veterinarian who currently was prattling on, apparently obvious to the the fact that Liz was inches away from stabbing herself in the eye with a fork, may have been the worst one yet.

He understood Liz's objective, as he did most everything about her these days. After Ronnie, she was trying desperately to secure a normal, healthy relationship, with a nice, ordinary guy. The trouble was that she wasn't really attracted to any of them. In the two years that she'd been sticking to this routine none of the men had lasted beyond the third date. Judging by her past dating history Liz was drawn to social outliers, generally with a hint of "bad boy" about them. It seemed that she thought that she could somehow teach herself to enjoy a more bland brand of man. Unfortunately for Liz, changing one's sexual instincts wasn't that simple. Desire was in the blood, not the brain, as Jacob knew only to well.

Watching Liz's futile search was frustrating for him as well. More and more he'd been imagining what he would say if it had been him sitting across from her. He'd know the questions to ask to make her open up to him. He'd know how to read her every expression, how to tell when she'd had a bad day, and what to say to make her feel better. He'd know how to take care of her. He'd know how to make her love him.

No, that was a dangerous thought he couldn't afford to have, especially now. The Major had informed Jacob that his time watching Elizabeth Scott was nearing its end. Bill and Reddington had apparently come to the joint decision that it would be better to replace Tom with a new operative. Reddington had claimed he wanted "fresh eyes" and Bill was anxious to get him back into deep cover.

It was probably for the best. Two years ago Jacob had hoped time would change the way he felt about Elizabeth Scott and it had. What had been just a sense of protectiveness, affection, and lust had become borderline obsession. Focusing on her flaws didn't help. The parts of her that were damaged and broken were in some ways even more fascinating to him than the parts that were whole.

Sleeping around hadn't helped either. Bill had even sent Gina to relieve him for a weekend, and originally Jacob had been pleased. He'd hoped a few days rolling around in the sheets with the closest thing he'd ever had to a real girlfriend would take the edge off his Liz cravings. It had not. Gina had not been pleased when the named he'd called out when they were in bed together had been "Liz".

His thoughts were consumed with her: what she was thinking, and what she was feeling. When he watched her sitting alone in her apartment, shoulders sagging after a brutal day, he found himself aching to hold her, to give some relief to the weight that she carried. On the rare occasion Liz brought a man back to her apartment Jacob found himself seething with jealousy. It wasn't smart or healthy for him to stay close to her. Still when he thought of never seeing her again he felt a pang of loss. Ridiculous though it may be, he would miss this woman that he had never formally even met.

Fish man and Liz were leaving the restaurant. The vet walked to the curb and raised a hand to hail a cab. Liz stood looking at her date for a moment, before turning and beginning to walk down the sidewalk in the direction of her apartment. The vet called after and Liz waved him off, saying she'd prefer to walk home. Jacob's reaction was mixed. On the one hand he could understand Liz's not wanting to be trapped in a cab with Dr. Doolittle, but on the other walking the streets of New York alone at night wasn't the safest decision.

After about thirty seconds of argument Liz's date gave up trying to change her mind. And they say chivalry was dead. Jacob decided to wait until Liz was a block away, and then follow on foot.

Jacob was just about to exit his vehicle when he saw a car door open four spaces ahead of him. A middle aged man with short dark grey hair and an athletic build emerged. The car had been sitting there since Jacob had arrived at the restaurant. Jacob watched as the stranger crossed the street and headed off in Liz's direction. Jacob's instincts shifted into high gear.

He jumped out of his own car and began the pursuit, staying a careful distance behind Liz's shadow. He kept his hand inside his jacket pocket, wrapped around his gun. If this man made one threatening move towards Liz it would be his last.

The man was moving at a brisk pace, faster than the speed Liz was going. At this rate the man would catch her before Liz reached her apartment. Jacob increased his own speed and started scanning the street for convenient alleys. He spotted one about a hundred feet ahead. Jacob moved swiftly and silently until he was right on top of the man. He cocked the gun and Liz's pursuer stopped dead in his tracks.

"Move and you're dead. Take your hands out of your pockets." The man did as he was told. "Into the alley. Don't turn around." Tom briefly looked past his hostage to catch a glimpse of Liz disappearing around the corner. Hopefully no more threats lurked between her and her destination.

"Look, just let me reach into my pocket for my wallet-" The man spun fast, but Jacob was ready. He ducked the blow and kicked Liz's would-be assailant back into the brick wall before aiming the gun between his eyes.

"There are two ways this goes: 1) You tell me what I what to know and I consider letting you walk or 2) You don't and I put a bullet in your head. Who do you work for?" The man spat at Jacob in typical "tough guy" fashion and Jacob responded by kicking him in the nuts. The man doubled over in pain, cursing at Jacob.

"Trust me when I say you want to talk to me and not my boss. He's not as gentle as I am." There was a chance this wasn't about Reddington, that this guy was just some street thug Liz had pissed off through her work with the FBI. Jacob willed the hitman to take the bait.

"You think I'm scared of Reddington?" The man snorted, then clenched his jaws. Jacob heard a cracking sound and within seconds the man started convulsing and forming at the mouth. He was dead in less than thirty second. Suicide pills. Jacob couldn't believe people still carried those things in their teeth. Jacob briefly wondered if the man had been KGB once upon a time.

Jacob quickly went through the man's pockets and found keys, a wallet, a hotel key card, a knife, and a burner phone. He took out his own his phone and snapped a picture of the man's face. With some difficulty Jacob hauled the body to the dumpster and pushed it inside. Nothing compromised physical evidence quite like trash and it was as good a spot as any to store the corpse.

After taking pictures of the license plate of the assassin's vehicle, Jacob got in his own car and left for his apartment building. He was more than aware that all of his efforts to get an ID on the man were probably in vain. The cyanide pill suggested he'd been an old world spook and whoever employed him was so intimidating that the man had chosen death over betraying his boss. Jacob felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach and it took him a second to identify it as fear. He suddenly felt an overwhelming need to lay eyes on Liz.

She was already asleep by the time Jacob was back in his apartment. He took a moment to stare at her still form, so peaceful and calm, so unaware how close to death she'd come that night. Why was this happening? Who was she to Reddington? And how the hell had she been found?

Tom deposited the dead man's possessions on his kitchen table and picked up his own burner phone.

"I need to speak to Reddington." Jacob was aware his tone was sharper than it should have been, but at that moment he didn't care. He was gradually becoming aware of a growing anger in his chest, which seemed to be largely directed at his boss.

"Mr. Reddington is in the middle of-" Jacob cut Dembe off mid-sentence.

"I don't care what he's in the middle of. Put him on!" The Concierge of Crime had somehow jeopardized Liz's safety for reasons Jacob was convinced were a complete mystery to her. The least he could do was put his criminal empire building on hold for a moment and take Jacob's phone call.

"Sweetheart, not the best time." Dembe was right apparently, Reddington was with company he didn't trust. Although that probably covered 99.9% of the world's population.

"Someone tried to assassinate Liz tonight." There was a pause on the other end of the line. Jacob was pleased his words were having some kind of an impact.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, but I trust you managed just fine without me?" Although it was a statement, Jacob recognized the question in his voice.

"The hitman's dead, and I stashed his body in a dumpster. She's sleeping in her apartment. She didn't see anything. He seems to have been working alone." Liz was secure, for now. The threat was imminent, but not immediate.

"Wonderful. I have a few things to care of then I promise I'll be right over. See you soon."

Within five seconds of hanging up on Reddington, the burner phone Jacob had stolen from the assassin started to ring. After a split second's hesitation he accepted the call, hopeful he might be able to gather some kind of information on the identity of the hitman's employer.

"Verification code." So much for learning anything of value. The woman repeated herself once before ending the call. Whoever Reddington's enemy was, they were cautious.

Jacob turned his attention back toward his screen. What would tomorrow hold for Elizabeth Scott? She'd been found, and targeted by enemies of Raymond Reddington. The safest course would be to send her into hiding with her adopted father. The fact Liz didn't really have close friends worked in her favor. She could start over with a new life, a new identity.

Of course she'd have to leave behind her career, everything she'd worked so hard to achieve. Despite the debacle with Ronnie Liz had still managed to graduate at the top of her class and even though she wasn't widely liked by her colleagues in the FBI mobile psych unit, she was respected. Reddington had cost her everything she'd fought so hard to earn.

How would she take losing all of that? Would she rage against the injustice of it all? Would she accept her fate with stoic calm? Would Reddington deliver the news himself or through an intermediary? Would he make Dembe do it? Would he make Jacob do it?

The burner phone was ringing again. The person on the other end of the line must have reported that someone without the bona fides had answered the call. Did that mean they were calling him? To what end? Jacob put the phone to his ear. A slightly accented voice greeted him.

"I assume I'm speaking to the operative who killed my agent?" He had was a Russian accent, Jacob was certain. He needed to keep the man talking and hopefully learn something useful.

"You assume correctly. I hope you're not calling for an apology." It would be a cold day in Hell before Jacob apologized for protecting Liz.

"Not at all. I'm calling to offer you a job." That was...unexpected.

"I already have a job." Did this guy really expect a bodyguard employed by Reddington to turn assassin? This man, whoever he was must think Jacob was a complete idiot.

"Yes, I understand you're Reddington's babysitter for Elizabeth Scott. Seems like a waste for a man of your talents. I have a job that's much more suited to your skill set." Jacob's blood ran cold. This man was speaking as though he knew, if not who, then what Jacob was. How could he possibly know that?

"Thanks, but my current boss has a nasty reputation when it comes to people who cross him." Jacob's mind raced frantically over the possibilities. Could Bill have sold him out? Or was this man just bluffing.

"I too, have that reputation. But to business, I'd be willing to double what Reddington is paying you. That's 10 million per annum." Per annum? That implied that whatever this man had in mind was long term. He'd said the job was more in line with Jacob's skill set...

"What's the job?" Jacob was beginning to see where this was leading, but he needed to actually hear the words.

"I want you to infiltrate the life of Elizabeth Scott and determine her value to Reddington." What was that saying, "Be careful what you wish for"? Less than a hour ago Jacob had been fantasizing about what it would be like to date Elizabeth Scott and now he was being offered a sizable paycheck to do just that.

"Call me back on this phone in an hour. You'll have your answer then." Jacob hung up before waiting for a response. As bad as he'd thought things had been ten minutes ago, the reality was much worse. Not only did Reddington's enemies know about Liz, but they'd also known about him. What was the assassination attempt then? A test? Of him? Of the intelligence that Liz and Reddington were connected? And how did they know who he was and how much he was being paid?

Jacob punched in Bill's emergency contact number.

"Line secure. This better be important." Bill sounded aggravated, but that was nothing compared to the way Jacob was feeling at the moment.

"Have we suddenly gotten into the business of screwing over our clients?" There was a pause on the other end of line.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bill sounded genuinely confused, but Jacob knew all too well how easy that was to fake.

"I'm talking about the fact you making a big deal of how important a client Reddington was and then handing privileged information over to his competitors." Jacob couldn't believe Bill would jeopardize his reputation in this manner, but who else had access to the facts so casually mentioned during the phone call.

"First of all, watch your tone. You're forgetting who you're talking to. Second, I have no idea what you're talking about. Selling out clients is bad business pure and simple. Tell me what happened." Jacob relayed the night's events as quickly as possible.

"He knew what I am, he knew how much I was being paid, he knew about Liz and Reddington-" Bill cut him off mid-sentence.

"Is that why you're in such a lather, because of the girl? Was Reddington right about you?" Jacob froze, conscious of the slip he'd made. He was getting too emotional about this and Reddington had apparently voiced his suspicions to Jacob's handler.

"I am "in a lather" because I am compromised and our very important client is on his way here and is expecting some kind of an explanation." That was as good a cover story as any. Any operative in his position would be upset. Bill was silent for so long, Jacob almost wondered if the call had disconnected.

"Don't tell him about the job offer, just tell him about the assassination attempt. With any luck he'll relocate the girl and she won't be our problem any more." Jacob nodded, in agreement, forgetting for the moment that Bill couldn't actually see him. Of course that didn't exactly solve his problem dealing with Reddington's enemy.

"And the other job offer?"

"You said he knew what you were, but he didn't have your name did he?" Jacob though back and realized that the man with the Russian accent had used neither his alias nor his real name.

"No." Perhaps things weren't as catastrophic as he'd feared.

"Then the exposure's minimal. Politely decline and as soon as you wrap things up with Reddington, get on a plane to London. Mr. Pitts will have something new waiting for you."

Jacob hung up. The plan made sense. If there was one thing Bill could do well it was play a bad hand to perfection. Still Jacob remained troubled. Bill must have been telling the truth about not revealing the details of the contract to Reddington's enemy, otherwise he would have told Jacob to take the job offer, so how had the Russian known how much he was being paid?

There were only three people in the world with that information: Reddington, Bill, and Jacob. Reddington was incredibly cautious so it was unlikely the leak came from him, and if Bill hadn't said anything...the truth suddenly hit Jacob like a subway car. There WAS one other person with all the information about his current job: Gina. She knew who he was watching and for whom, she knew how much he was making, and she had been angry with him. He'd been so stupid. He had never considered the possibility that Gina would violate Bill's code to get back at him. It was...unprofessional. Speaking of...

Jacob swung his eyes back to the woman he'd been paid to protect. She was one of the the very few people in the world he'd genuinely cared about, and through his weakness he had put her in danger. He'd been so angry at Reddington on her behalf, and the truth was the calamity that was about befall her was his fault. Yet another unfamiliar sensation swept over him. Guilt. It must be guilt.

What could he do about it? Stick to Bill's plan, move on to the next job, and hope Reddington would protect her? Or was there another choice? A way he could atone for his failure?

Jacob reached out, gently touched the image of Elizabeth Scott, and spoke to her as though he were there in the room with her., "Lizzie...I am so sorry."


	4. Enough

Jacob had never learned how to swim. The thirty years he'd spent on this planet, all the things he'd done, and choices he'd made, and his greatest regret, until recently, had been that he'd never learned how to swim.

He used to dream about it, disappearing under the ocean waves and propelling himself down into the quiet world that waited for him there. He'd pictured a place with no foster parents who liked to slap him around when they were drunk, no kids sneering at the "food stamp brat", and no social worker predicting he'd wind up behind bars before his sixteenth birthday.

Bill had once promised him that he'd teach Jacob to be anyone he wanted to be. That hadn't exactly been the truth. Jacob had learned how to become anyone his clients wanted him to be. So far none of his jobs had required that him to pick up this fundamental skill that most of the world had mastered before they entered middle school. Maybe one them would, some day, provided he lived through tonight.

It felt strange sitting here, watching Liz sleep and waiting for his potential murderer to arrive. He had never been someone who calmly accepted his fate. He'd always fought to survive. Jacob still couldn't quite believe the decisions he'd made in the past four hours, decisions which could very well be the end of him.

Even as he acknowledged this truth, he couldn't bring himself to regret what he'd done. Jacob felt like he'd had the first time he'd jumped out of an airplane; scared, but also exhilarated. The choice had been made, and when the time came to pull the shoot, it would either work or it wouldn't. In the meantime he might as well enjoy the sensation of the freefall.

Liz stirred in her sleep, twisting her sheets as she did when she was having a nightmare. He hated watching her like this because it made him feel helpless. Jacob could protect her from physical threats, but he had no power to protect her from the terrors inside her own mind.

"No. No. NO NO NO! Daddy!" Liz sat bolt upright, having scared herself awake. She looked around her apartment, as though she was searching for something she couldn't find. A sharp knock pulled Jacob's focus from his screen. Reddington. Jacob was surprised he was bothering to knock.

After quickly checking to confirm the identity of his guest, Jacob opened his door and admitted the Concierge of Crime and petite, birdlike woman with chin-length black hair.

"Mr. Kaplan needs the exact location of the body." Jacob was careful not to let his surprise show on his face as he gave the woman directions to the dumpster, as well as to the hitman's car. After taking the key Jacob had stolen from the dead man, the woman was gone without addressing one word to him. Jacob couldn't believe that she was the infamous Mr. Kaplan. He'd heard of Reddington's personal cleaner, but somehow he'd always pictured a big guy with a mustache, maybe eastern european. How on earth would that woman be able to even move the corpse, let alone dispose of it? Jacob shook himself slightly. Mr. Kaplan wasn't his problem, Reddington was. At the moment the man was sifting through the items on Jacob's table. As he picked up the hotel key card, Jacob choose to break the silence.

"He was staying in at the Hilton in Midtown. Room 203." Jacob doubted the man had left much behind, but there was always the chance they'd get lucky.

"Have you examined it?" Jacob shook his head.

"No. I didn't want to leave her." Reddington's frown deepened. Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest choice of words.

"I appreciate your efforts tonight Mr. Davis, but I'm no longer in need of your services. I'm sure Bill is anxious to start you on your next assignment." Reddington waited for Jacob to turn and exit the apartment, but he held his ground. This was it, the moment of truth.

"He called me. The man who hired the assassin." Reddington tilted his head to the side, as though he was unsure what he'd just heard.

"Really? And what exactly did he say?" Jacob took a deep breath, possibly one of the last he'd ever take.

"He offered me a job. He wants to know how you and Liz are connected. He offered me double what you were paying me. Ten million per year." Reddington's gaze bore deeply into Jacob's eyes, and for the first time Jacob felt he could see there the exceptionally dangerous man beneath charming veneer.

"An offer I assume you wisely declined." Rather than answer Jacob decided to go on the offensive.

"Do you know who this guy is? Why he's after you? Is he the reason you hired me?" If Reddington knew where the threat was coming from that would be one thing. Jacob knew Reddington's reputation well enough to know there were few criminals who could be considered his peers. If however Reddington was fighting a ghost that changed things considerably.

"I fail to see how that is any of your business." So that was a "no". Whoever this person was they had to be very smart and cautious to hide from Reddington.

"I can help you." Jacob needed to be very careful, present his proposal in just the right way, or else he suspected Mr. Kaplan would likely be disposing of two bodies instead of one.

"How?"

"By working for him and feeding you information from the inside." He wasn't sure which was be more dangerous, being a double agent inside Reddington's enemies organization or proposing the idea to Reddington. Reddington had gone very still and a vein had started to twitch in his forehead.

"Absolutely not." Not the most encouraging response, but at least no gun had been drawn yet.

"How long have you been hunting this enemy of yours? Two years? More? What has it gotten you? My guess is not a lot. I didn't kill that hitman tonight, he beat me to it. He knew who you were and he far more frightened of his boss. That is who is coming for her now, someone more frightening than you, and I am the best chance you have of stopping him." Jacob paused a moment to let that sink in: A man more dangerous and ruthless than Reddington. That had to make an impact.

"And why would you do that?" A fair question and one he would need to answer honestly. Why was he doing this? Guilt about Gina? Partly. Mostly, though it was something else, a feeling that had been growing inside of him for two years.

"I don't want her to die." The thought of Liz on the ground with a bullet between her eyes sent a wave of cold all the way down through him. Her death was unacceptable.

"So this is about protecting her? Not about some fantasy you've been nurturing while you were supposed to be watching over her." There was a dangerous query. If he was honest he could hardly deny there was a part of him that was rejoicing. How many hours had he spent watching Liz, wondering what it would feel like to made her smile, make her laugh. Hold her. Kiss her. Make love to her. Unfortunately Jacob knew that was exactly what Reddington did not want to hear. It would be better to dodge than answer.

"There is a man out there somewhere who is hiring operatives to infiltrate Liz's life. I assure you that if it is not me, it will be some else. How exactly do you plan to handle that? Murder every man who displays romantic interest in her? Send her into hiding, make her give up her entire life for and hope you enemy doesn't find her again? Or do you want to end this threat once and for all?" So what if he had feelings for Liz? Wasn't that better for Reddington in the long run? If he didn't feel this connection to her there was no way he would be offering to take on so risky an assignment. This whole deal benefited Reddington far more than it benefited Jacob. Jacob waited while Reddington considered his arguments.

"If we were to do this there would be terms. First, you stay under only so long as this man survives. When he's dead it's over, you disappear. Second, she never learns the truth. Not about you, and especially not about me." Both conditions seemed reasonable. Jacob nodded his assent.

"Agreed." Jacob was debating extending his hand to Reddington to seal their contract when Reddington strode past him towards the door. The visit was apparently concluded. He stopped at the door.

"To be clear Mr. Davis, if you do not hold up your end of the agreement or if any harm come to Elizabeth, there will be no where on earth Bill could hide you to protect you from me." Number four on the most wanted list left before Jacob could respond.

He couldn't believe it. It had worked. After that close call Jacob definitely needed a cigarette. He went to his kitchen drawer and pulled out the pack he kept for special occasions. He lit up and allowed his lungs to fill with smoke, then slowly exhaled.

He'd need to call Bill, tell him what he'd done. The Major wouldn't be pleased, but he could sell this. Reddington had fired him before Berlin had hired him, so technically there had been no client betrayal. The money was incredible and Bill was greedy, so that would help. He wouldn't tell him about the deal with Reddington. Bud had his suspicions about how Jacob felt about Liz, but so long as they were unconfirmed, he'd look the other way.

Jacob needed to starting building the parameters for his legend and forward them to Berlin who would provide the documentation. Who did Liz want? Who would he become? Jacob looked at the cigarette between his fingers, and with a sigh put it out in the sink. Given her father's history with lung cancer, a smoker would be a turn-off. So a non-smoker. Someone honest. Someone committed. Someone she could one day see herself starting a family with. Someone who was not at all like him.

That thought hurt more than it should have. So what if Liz would never choose someone like Jacobs Phelps? It didn't matter. Jacob Phelps couldn't afford to have anyone in his life that he cared about any way. It would be too dangerous. This though, Jacob could have this. A little time living a fantasy with a woman he'd wanted for over two years. He'd protect her while indulging in his infatuation. It was enough. It has to be enough.


End file.
